


Eidolon

by StarryEyes2000



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Control Reemergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Starfleet Special Forces
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:08:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26822653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarryEyes2000/pseuds/StarryEyes2000
Summary: Set in immediate aftermath of Season 2.Control reemerges. Voq is resurfacing after Ash Tyler is injured. Pike and Leland's past missions together may hold a clue to defeating Control permanently.
Relationships: Christopher Pike/Original Female Character, Leland/Original Female Character
Kudos: 10





	1. Prologue

Aalin stared into space wishing the dark expanse splashed with light would bring the same serenity as a blanket of newly fallen snow. Battle’s aftermath always left her feeling raw, claustrophobic, craving the grounding feel of trees or grass or the comforting sound of raindrops. Any interaction with nature.

This fight had been particularly vicious and heart wrenching. The first ninety-six hours afterwards were an all-consuming struggle to stabilize the ship and care for the injured. Memorial services dominated the next few days. With the ship now under armed escort to space dock via tow, the crew could finally stand down and grieve. The edginess of sadness for the losses mixed with relief for the defeat of Control felt suffocating at times.

Sensing a presence behind, she reached back to take Chris’ hand before turning away from the viewport and answering the unspoken question. “I couldn’t sleep.” And then anticipating his next question, “I didn’t want to wake you.”

He glanced from her to the viewport and then back at her. Continued holding her hand. A subtle signal this was a personal conversation rather than a professional one and silent encouragement to continue when she was ready.

“It doesn’t feel,” a pause, “appropriate to talk about now, there is too much …” She followed his inaudible count backwards from ten to calm his anger. Everyone was frazzled with tempers flaring at the least provocation. And her response sounded like a breaking of the most important promise in their relationship.

Sighing, she reached up and smoothed the stray hair away from his face. “That is not what …” she started to explain but realizing she truly was holding back to protect him finished, “I apologize.”

Aalin continued haltingly, and, in a whisper, “I can’t stop thinking about Leland. I know he is perceived as synonymous with Control and its horrors …” she faltered for a moment, “people think he _was_ Control.”

He could see the tears in her eyes that he heard in her voice. “I am not defending his actions,” she continued, “his choices were alarming.”

She paused. Looked back out into space. “Deep down, Leland was a protector. His need to protect took a dark turn. But I remember him before Section 31. Then, despite his planet sized ego, his swagger and cockiness were endearing. He was funny and kind.”

She turned back to face him, her voice stronger now. “I want to grieve for him, but is that even fitting? How do I reconcile my memories of him with the arrogance of his, that along with others, built Control and caused so much suffering and destruction?”

He reached up to wipe away the tears. The silence between them stretched for several minutes. She smiled sadly. “I think you want to grieve for him as well. You were good friends until your paths diverged.”

“Come.” She took his hand again and guided him in the direction of their quarters. “I doubt you have slept more than two or three hours every few days in the past two weeks. This is a conversation for another day.”


	2. Wraiths

Ash Tyler’s last night in sickbay was turning out to be unbearably long.

_Again_ he was starting over. _Again_ he was looking for a place to fit in. _Again_ he was among people he did not know. Except for one he admitted to himself, but their relationship was frequently strained. Would the Captain still trust him?

He had respected Leland at first, appreciated the mentorship, felt valued in Section 31. Control picked Leland as its humanoid form for a reason.

He missed watching daybreak, a physical reminder of the chance to start over. Why did he speak only in Klingonese after his injury?

He could not slow the unending stream of random thoughts. Too many questions, no answers and … no coffee. None. Anywhere on the ship. How could a ship function without coffee? That reminded him of Tilly and was too sad to dwell on.

He felt like a wraith, a faint trace of both his former and current selves.

ooooo

Liam Flynn stared at the images of Enterprise taken in the immediate aftermath of the battle. And swore. At the gaping hole where the photon torpedo lodged and later exploded. At the hull of a ship appearing too fragile to maintain atmosphere or stand up to the rigors of space travel. His former commander must be holding the ship and crew together through sheer willpower.

“How did they not only survive the fight but also repair the most critical damage before help arrived?” Flynn’s first officer asked.

“The force of nature known as Christopher Pike.” Liam replied. “What’s our status this morning?”

“All boards are green for us and the other escort ships. Sickbay reports two Enterprise patients will be discharged today.

“Requests from Enterprise?” Liam asked.

“Replication of parts and continued backup for medical. Half of their sickbays are still out of operation. Oh, and any spare portable power cells.”

“OK. Coordinate with the other escorts to fulfill the requests. Keep me informed.” Liam replied. The officer rose to leave then stopped to ask, “Sir, why not send for supply ships? Our crew on loan to Enterprise report there isn’t even enough power to run food replicators and they are rationing water reserves.”

Liam looked up, surprised the answer wasn’t obvious. “The flagship of the Federation is heavily damaged and limping home. A tempting target for mischief, capture or another incident that could lead to war. Simply put, we cannot risk it.” After thinking for a minute, he added “Remind our crew, the other escorts and the tug ships no communications outside of the group without authorization by their captain.”

The first officer nodded and left for the bridge. Alone in his ready cubbyhole – room would be too generous a term – Liam resumed scanning the images, thinking ‘How the hell did you survive?

ooooo

“Lieutenant Tyler” the nurse called to get his attention and waited for the universal translator in the communicator to catchup, “you’re released from Sickbay. The doctor asks you check in once a day for the next week.” He handed Tyler a hypospray, “Use this every three hours for pain. Any questions?”

After Tyler shook his head, the nurse continued, “Commander Bengsston will escort you to quarters. Report back if you experience any dizziness or intense pain.” Then the nurse moved to the next patient, leaving him in the security chief’s charge.

“Shall we Lieutenant?” The Commander gestured to the doorway and continued, “we’ll pick up your new translator and personal effects from the quartermaster on the way. Then we’ll see to your security briefing.”

“New?” Tyler asked as he looked up to the unsmiling face of the formidable six-foot six chief.

“Lieutenant Matthews programed a translator to the specific Klingonese dialect you are speaking.” Bengsston responded as he firmly escorted his charge through the doorway and into the corridor.

ooooo

Number One looked up from reviewing the latest status reports to watch the Captain stride briskly out of his ready room, across the short distance and into one of the bridge’s turbolifts. Briskly as in “get out of my way NOW”; the usual humorous mischief in his eyes replaced with shards of ice. Or blue firebolts.

_And so ends the now daily argument with Command_ , she thought. He had yet to share details of these conversations, but she picked up a few clues - his insistence the Enterprise return to headquarters at best speed, their insistence all information regarding Control be highly classified, his insistence Starfleet and the Federation Council acknowledge and correct their errors with Section 31. She imagined the conversations as metaphorical shouting matches. Metaphorical since the Captain only ever shouted in two circumstances – to be heard over a din and to focus the crew when time was critical. When he was truly angry his voice became steely and quiet. Sometimes chillingly. A subtle reminder he was formidable when that was required.

So far, they were still on course for headquarters therefore she assumed he was winning the argument. Or disobeying orders. She wouldn’t bet against the latter.

Pike walked the corridors to calm down, forcing the tension out of his body and putting on his ‘things are bad, but we are going to be OK expression’ for the crew. Normally he would indulge in a run, but the corridors were filled with harried people and cluttered with equipment. The crew’s edgy mood was starting to dissipate but if they perceived their Captain to be tense it would ratchet back up.

After last night’s conversation with Aalin, thoughts of Leland hovered all day. But now, there were other issues needing his attention.

The crew’s time and attention were currently focused on reaching headquarters as quickly as possible. But it might already be too late to reach safety. He had a sixth sense for approaching danger. It was not infallible, perilous situations could manifest quickly and unexpectedly and often did; but when it telegraphed a warning he had learned to listen.

And those instincts were starting to shout.

ooooo

One of Tyler’s questions was answered – the Captain did not trust him. Bengsston made it _unmistakably_ clear he always required an escort and was limited to quarters and public areas of the ship; the bridge, engineering and science labs were out of bounds. (The security chief had suggested their guest travel in an escape pod but was overruled.) Restricted access to onboard computers was granted. No off-ship messages without the Captain’s permission. The Captain would try to find a few minutes to meet with Tyler in the next several days. It was a short conversation.

At least he was assigned private quarters. It must have been a storage closet at one point being just long enough for a bed and just wide enough for a desk beside the bed. And no viewports. A cell without the symbolism of being confined to the brig.

He unpacked the few items in his bag. A spare uniform. Disco branded workout clothes. A book of Leland’s. And his two most dear possessions - the torchbearer badge returned from his son and a framed picture of a smiling, happy and relaxed Michael Burnham.

ooooo

Captain Flynn was pleased to see his crew snap to attention as he and Pike walked the corridors. Few of them expected to meet one of the most prominent captains in the fleet and Liam appreciated the respect they exhibited.

Once inside Liam’s quarters Pike said “It is an impressive ship. You did well.”

“Too bad it took being on the losing side of the war with the Klingons to get Command to fast track the Wraith-NGs into production. If you ask me, and no one did by the way, we were losing that war from the start. And that fancy trick leading to the armistice won’t hold.”

“NG?” Pike asked deciding the rest was a longer conversation for another day.

Liam chuckled, “No one knows, to me it’s ‘Wraith the Next Generation.’ We can sustain Warp 7 for several hours and have reached Warp 7.2 for a few seconds in test flights. Six have been built and three more are close to completion.”

Pike and Liam had lobbied for a squadron of combat ships based on the old Wraith class they flew on Special Forces missions. Those ships were stealthy, fast, heavily armed and as maneuverable as a tactical fighter. Shadows that emerged out of thin air, pounced on their target, and faded into the dark.

Liam continued, “We traded some maneuverability for the larger size but gained power for speed, shields, and weapons." He poured them a drink and sat in the opposite chair.

After taking a sip he asked, “Tell me Chris, why in hell are you here tonight with more enticing company waiting on Enterprise? Who, I remind you, you have been separated from for months?”

Ignoring the question, which didn’t go unnoticed by his friend, Pike put down his drink and said quietly. “Leland was killed during the mission.”

Liam swore. Repeatedly. Started pacing the room. Swore again. This time his choice of words would have made an Orion blush. Pike waited patiently until the outburst was over.

“We worked together a few times after our team disbanded. Didn’t like him any better then. I don’t think he ever admitted what he did was wrong.” Liam continued “How did he behave?”

“He …” Pike started and stopped. Considered. Then continued, “His actions and justifications were increasingly questionable. It’s probably best to leave it there.”

They sipped their drinks in silence for a while. “As for the other reason I beamed over. We need to get prepared.” They spent the next several hours creating plans, backup plans, and backups to the backup plans for defending Enterprise and the group of escorts and tugs from an unknown but expected threat.


	3. First Meeting

**20 years ago**

“That’s not going to work” said the man who had quietly entered the operations briefing room five minutes earlier.

Leland stopped his conversation with the assembled group, and frowning turned from the view screen. “And you are?” he asked the man in the flight suit who was now leaning casually against the wall.

“The pilot assigned to fly you to the Tellun system and back. Though if that’s your plan, you won’t need a ride back” the newcomer replied gesturing at the mission brief displayed on the view screen.

Leland chuckled and asked, “You’re just a flyboy, what could you possibly know about ground reconnaissance tactics?”

The pilot shrugged, “Most likely very little.”

Leland decided to ignore the interruption and later arrange for a different pilot to be assigned, one with a clearer understanding of their limited role in this operation. He turned back to the group and continued his briefing. “We’ll insert four miles outside the city and enter it at night, taking up positions here, here and here by dawn …”

“At which point you will be visible to the traffic sensors,” the pilot finished.

Leland whirled around and replied in a clipped tone, “I’ve had about enough of you and your comments. My team and I have spent days perfecting this plan. You’ve looked at it for all of what, six minutes now? Have you even been to Tellun before?”

The pilot, nonplussed, straightened, walked to the view screen, and pointed to a ridge dotted with small trees. “No. But look at the aerial view of the civilian sensor network. Your overwatch position lies in the intersection of three traffic cameras.”

“That’s not a defensive system.” Leland countered.

“True, but it is monitored, and I would bet, recorded. The overwatch will be noticed and from there it is child’s play to plot the sightlines to your team.” The pilot grinned before continuing, “But as you said I’m just the flyboy and I like having the ship to myself anyway.” He walked towards the door.

“Who the hell are you?” Leland asked.

“Lieutenant Christopher Pike” the pilot called over his shoulder as he left the room.

Leland wasn’t ready to admit there could be a flaw in his plan. “I want a different pilot assigned, mission leader’s choice” he demanded, his face beginning to redden.

The assembled commanders traded looks and then the Admiral from Starfleet Intelligence shook her head and replied, “Pike can be brash, but he is also one of the best pilots we have and there are multiple reports of Klingon raids near Tellun. You’ll need his skills if things get hot. Therefore, your request is denied.” Rising to leave she added, “Fix the plan and then we will reconvene. Remember time is of the essence.” The command group filed out.

Now alone in the briefing room, Leland allowed himself to seethe for 20 minutes.

“Shown up by, by someone who is essentially a glorified bus driver!” Leland muttered to himself. He a rising star in Special Operations who had already participated in several missions with Starfleet Intelligence and last year even one mission with Section 31 on the Klingon home world, his tactical skills called out by a pilot, _a pilot!,_ with no regard for the proper time and place to question his superiors.

The indulgence over, it was time to channel this anger into productive action. It was one mission. Then they would part ways – permanently. Until then it would be foolish not to make use of an extra resource with a unique perspective. Leland was ambitious and many other things, but he was not foolish.


	4. Memories, Preparations and Messages

**Present Day**

Kahless, give me light.

Father, give me wisdom.

Mother, give me drink.

Brother, give me strength.

Sister, give me family.

Over and over, throughout the night, Ash Tyler heard himself recite this Klingon prayer. The one used to trigger his activation as a spy, bringing Voq’s memory and personality ingrams to the forefront. The activation had been … erratic … stalled until he came face-to-face with Voq in the Terran universe.

But his mind and DNA’s connection to those ingrams had been severed, rendering him fully, wholly human with only Voq’s memories. What had changed?

Why was he invoking the prayer?

Was this another activation?

Could he trust himself to walk among this human crew?

Or if challenged would he strike out again, efficiently killing any obstacle?

Without thinking he reached to his bedside desk and picked up the photograph of Michael Burnham. Lovingly he traced her face with his fingertips, his body aching for one last opportunity to hold her. But their love, which would last a lifetime, was not destined to be shared for more than a few months.

He thought of L’Rell, who he also loved, differently, but still truly. The mother of his son. Nor were they destined to be together.

He thought of his son – who he would not meet again in this lifetime. A piercing, pain-filled spasm shot through him. His ache for that loss was the strongest of all.

But he was also filled with pride. Pride in his son’s participation in their battle to defeat Control, that his son aided Captain Pike’s acquisition of the time crystal. Pride that Captain Pike, a man Ash respected though they had an uneasy relationship, believed Ash’s son was meant to guide him on Boreth.

At times, Ash envied Pike’s unshakable faith.

He was completely and utterly alone. Unable even to engage in conversation with others as his latest universal translator still failed most of the time.

Could he learn to live in such a solitary existence? Did he want to?

Glancing at the book on the desk he reached to pick it up. As he did two pictures fell out of the pages onto the floor. This book and those pictures were Leland’s only personal possessions on the Section 31 ship. Leland had asked Ash to take them with him to Discovery. Did Leland sense his fate? Perhaps wanted these items returned to a loved one? Now Ash would never know.

The book was a well-read volume of poetry. He studied the pictures after retrieving them. One was a group of men, on a beach in front of a vivid blue ocean. On Earth perhaps? Although Ash didn’t recognize the location.

In the other picture a young woman with long dark honey colored hair and blue eyes smiled at the camera, head tilted slightly. Ash guessed she was smiling at Leland as he snapped the photograph. A lover perhaps? Or good friend? Leland never mentioned being close to anyone. Never mentioned if he had a family. Or friends. Or if he had known love.

Ash shivered. Was he destined to end up lonely and in the shadows? Just like Leland? Was survival worth that type of life?

Yes, he told himself firmly. He had endured too much, lost too much, given up too much to … to simply quit. It was time to rebuild, again.

He would start by finding the woman in the photograph and delivering Leland’s things to her.

ooooo

Montgomery Scott motioned to the officer who had just entered the mess hall, pointing to a chair at his table. As she down he asked, “What’s up?”

“What do you mean? I just finished an overnight shift in Sickbay, did I miss something?” Aalin asked.

“The Captain is in a wee bit of a snit.”

“Oh?”

“After he got back from the Reed last night, that is Captain Flynn’s ship, he ordered everyone on duty and demanded weapons, shields and warp drive be back online by tonight.”

She looked skeptically at the engineer. “That’s odd. Is it even possible?”

Scotty shook his head. “It will take a miracle or two. Louvier is the best engineer in the fleet. He’s already invented three new curses. And it’s only 8:00am.”

“But that would mean …” Aalin started.

“The Captain is expecting to run or fight. Before we reach spacedock. Despite a heavily armed escort.” Scotty finished.

“Can we survive another battle?”

He hesitated before responding. “We’ll find a way to hold Enterprise together.” That pause spoke volumes.

ooooo

Aalin waited for a response to the door chime before entering the ready room. After ten minutes permission was given. The room was overflowing with senior officers, engineers and tactical specialists engaged in multiple, simultaneous conversations, calling out questions to the Captain, who stood in the center of the room scanning PADDs that were randomly handed to him as he listened to his crew.

She slipped in and kept to the room’s periphery until Pike directed a question to her. “Update on Tyler’s translator?”

“Not good. Its accuracy is about ten percent. It may not be possible to improve that much beyond fifty percent.” Aalin responded.

“Explain.”

“He is speaking six different dialects interchangeably. Sometimes in one sentence. And the universal translator relies on neurological readings to choose vocabulary.”

The CMO added, “Right now Tyler’s neurological scans show two distinct and separate entities operating concurrently.”

“It is beyond anything we have ever tried to program into the translator before.” Aalin finished.

“Options?” Pike asked.

“The Klingon Chancellor is sending a new language database. We expect it tomorrow. Though Enterprise’s computers are too damaged to receive it. They are sending it to the Reed. And Captain Flynn is allocating a computer scientist to help build a new algorithm for the translator.” She stopped, then decided and continued, “There is another solution. I can interpret directly as needed.”

Pike and the Security Chief answered in unison and loudly, “No.” The Captain added, his voice softer, “I am not yet convinced he can be trusted. And I need the translations from Tyer’s time in Sickbay. When he was unconscious. I need it today.”

“OK. But …”

“What?”

“Much of it is very personal – and not relevant. Those parts should be omitted from the report.”

Pike shook his head. “I understand but I want everything.”

“Yes sir.”

“You’re dismissed.” Chris softened the order with a brief smile in her direction. And then immediately went back to answering the barrage of questions directed to him.

ooooo

“Ma’am, I mean Sir, I mean Lieutenant?” The communications specialist from Discovery called after her.

Aalin smiled at the young man as she turned. “Any are fine.”

He handed her a communication chip. “This is for you. I am sorry, but we just now had the time to distribute it.” He hurried away before she could respond.

Once in her quarters she activated the message. The viewscreen filled with the face of Commander Nhan.

“I don’t have much time. Those of us who are staying on board Discovery are recording messages to their loved ones. And … well … you and Scotty and the rest of the Enterprise crew, now along with the Discovery crew, are my family.”

“Pause recording,” Aalin ordered as she reached out to gently touch the screen. _I still haven’t accepted that I will never see you again_ , she thought. And it suddenly all became too much. The fight, the destruction, the losses, the pain, the fear and the worry. Tears began to fall. “Resume.”

“There is another recording with my will. Briefly now, these last important things. For his birthday next month remember to give Scotty the scotch we smuggled through Earth and Starbase 10 customs.”

“Please seek out Ash Tyler. I don’t know where he will end up, but he left Discovery to bring Klingon ships to fight with Enterprise against Control. That choice cost him everything. He will need a friend. And an advocate. Be those for him, as a last gift to me.”

Nhan paused and looked sad. “Please tell the Captain … it was my … great honor to server under him. And I will … always follow his example wherever and whenever we end up.”

Enterprise’s former deputy security chief tried to force a smile as she continued, “And most importantly, take care of him. For all of us.”

“Thank you, for being my friend, my surrogate sister.”

In the background Aalin heard someone calling Nhan to the bridge. “Oh and one other thing, something may have happened to the Captain on Boreth …”

The message ended abruptly.


	5. Rumors, Folks Tales, and Urban Legends

They say the only thing that can travel faster than Warp 10 is gossip via the starship grapevine. And when the crew is stressed or bored rumors, folk tales and urban legends are born.

_Urban legend,_ Pike mused to himself, _we really need to come up with a term more reflective of a starship._

He kept up on the general content; it was a good measure of the mood of the crew. When the truth was stretched too far, he would disseminate a few targeted facts via the official starship grapevine, a handful of influential non-commissioned officers, to reign in the gossip. Then a new topic typically caught the crew’s attention. Today the rumors were skirting the edge of acceptable. He made a mental note to have Number One curb the most egregious, particularly the ones swirling around about Leland and Control.

A current favorite was Spock’s successful escape from Starbase 5’s medical unit. Not that he fled but how. The theories were reaching Sherlockian levels of intricacy. The one where Spock enlisted the aid of a beautiful, sympathetic doctor was particularly inventive and offered several intriguing and romantic side plots.

Familiar with Spock’s ingenuity, Pike assumed the escape was a solo effort. But yet, there was a tiny ripple questioning that assumption. The why was just out of reach. For now. Shaking his head, he pushed the question away. Spock was safe, the charges were dropped. He had no time to indulge in interesting puzzles.

Spock was safe but by no means well. He performed his duties flawlessly as always. But the clues were there, subtle signs his psyche was deeply bruised. Perhaps more seriously than when Michael pushed her brother, then a small child, away. Pike sighed. Spock required a delicate touch at the moment. He needed space and time, though the Captain was determined to keep a close eye on his science officer.

Pike was taking a “walkabout”, the name given by the chief navigator to this typically bi-weekly ritual. A stroll through the ship providing face time with members of the crew far removed from the captain’s orbit. A chance to gauge if needs were not making it though the chain of command. Another way to encourage calm and confidence in this crew who faced the unexpected and dangerous regularly and looked to him to see them safely through. This was his third walkabout in as many days.

He was pleased to see the intense effort he ordered to get minimal shields, weapons, and warp back online not only gave him maneuvering capability if the ship were attacked – severely limited, but they were no longer sitting ducks – but also moved the crew through another stage of healing which was the other goal of the task. They found a way to once again accomplish the impossible, or at the very least improbable, and were justifiably proud. Cautious but muted celebrations were popping up here and there, another good sign.

Most of the crew were off-duty but his mental to-do list for the day was growing from his observations – additional grief counseling for an ensign in Medical, a commendation for the unnoticed work of a supply private during yesterday’s herculean repair effort, a check-in with Amin who had a connection with a scientist that remained on Discovery, the integration of the Discovery crew …

Much of the Discovery crew elected to fight with Enterprise and they were important in winning the battle. Now they were struggling with survivor’s guilt due to their choice and once again adapting to a new command staff. Over the past week he made time to talk with each of them one-on-one. Assured each they could stay on Enterprise, or he would arrange another assignment. Or approve extended leave.

There were no requests for transfer yet, but, other than duty shifts, the Discovery crew were keeping to themselves, not responding to overtures from the Enterprise crew. Except the approaches from Pike. _It’s too soon to expect more,_ he thought, _they need time. And for you to keep the ship functioning and out of harm’s way._

ooooo

“You know,” Dr. Phil Boyce said as he joined Aalin at the table in the Captain’s dining room, “you are the only person on board who appears to enjoy the MREs.”

“It gives me an excuse to eat cold pizza for breakfast. Otherwise Chris tends to frown on that choice.” She put down the unappetizing slice. “Enjoy isn’t the best descriptor.”

“You rarely eat in here, for that matter neither does Chris, what’s up?” Phil asked as he poked at the contents of his own MRE breakfast. “I miss coffee the most.”

“Isn’t that included?”

“It tastes like wash water and you are avoiding my question.” Phil responded.

“I hear there is an old-style French press in the galley and Chef is making real coffee by heating water with a phaser.”

“Still avoiding.”

“How do you know that I rarely use this room?” Aalin asked.

“This is where Una and I hatch our plots. Now you’re deflecting by the way.”

She surrendered to the inevitable knowing the kind doctor wouldn’t stop pushing until satisfied, exhaling as her shoulders sagged. “I needed time and a quiet place to … catch my breath. Like everyone on board I walk into a mess hall or a conference room or Sickbay and … miss seeing a friend who is … no longer with us.”

“Nhan?”

She nodded.

“And?” He narrowed his eyes at his friend. She usually keeps her own counsel and can be an enigma. She also careful with their friendship, which Phil knows Aalin values, ensuring it never interferes with his role as one of Chris’ primary confidants. Although he didn’t know her well before she and Chris became involved, Phil suspects at heart she is less reserved. That in private she gives freer rein to a playful sense of humor, to mischief; that she readily and completely shares her deepest feelings. In public she delicately walks a fine line between Captain and crew.

“I knew Leland. We met around fifteen years ago. Became close for a time. I … it’s hard to reconcile the two versions of the man.”

Phil noticed tears close to the surface. He didn’t know what to say.

“I’d appreciate my past friendship with Leland remaining private. With everything that has happened … that information … well … it’s not important now and cruel to those who suffered losses.” She squeezed his hand, “I’m ok, simply grieving like everyone else.”

“But that is not the only reason you are here.”

Aalin smiled affectionately at Phil’s uncanny ability to read people. Acknowledged his insight with a head tilt. “I’m keeping a low profile while the Discovery folks settle in.”

That connected the dots. “Which is the reason you didn’t transfer to Discovery once Spock left the psychiatric facility?" Phil asked.

That prompted a chuckle. “Left? There is an understated way to describe it. But yes, that is one reason. Chris suspected the crew was suffering from their time with Lorca. That was confirmed once he was on board. Lorca had pets whose egregious actions never drew consequences. He indulged in quite a few conquests, most consensual, but several were not. They needed Chris’ undivided attention. My presence could have complicated earning their trust and completing the mission. And with Commander Saru’s language skills, he didn’t need another interpreter.”

“That didn’t bother you?” He knew the answer but was curious to see her reaction.

Aalin looked genuinely baffed. “No, why would it?

_Perhaps the best partner for a down-to-earth idealist is another down-to-earth another idealist._ Phil thought.

“What else did you want to ask me?” She knew the doctor’s tells. He was playing with a packet of sugar, twirling it back and forth between his fingers.

“It’s probably nothing. Chris would say I am worrying like a mother hen. Have you noticed anything … I don’t know the best word … different about Chris since he came back?”

She hesitated before answering. “No. But there has been little time for anything but defeating Control and survival. His every moment, waking and otherwise, is consumed with getting the ship, its escort, and everyone back to headquarters healthy and whole. He’s focused. And suppressing his grief for the losses until he’s not needed. Maybe that is what you are sensing.”

_That’s reasonable. Logical. Or are you deflecting?_ Phil rose to leave. “I should get to Sickbay. You will get him to take a break today?”

“I’ll try. Don’t bet on it.”

“Take advantage of the lull, have a date night.” He suggested.

“Chris’ idea of a date is a long morning run. Not the type of break you have in mind I image.” Was her amused reply.

“Figures,” the doctor snorted, mumbling “damn fool” to himself as he left.

To her Chris felt distant. They were unusually awkward with one another which she had dismissed as normal after a long separation. And with everything on his plate – the battle, Kat’s death, the loss of a ship and crew, getting a damaged ship home safely – distant was an honest and not unexpected reaction. She had learned sometimes a captain had to push aside feelings in order to function.

Yet there was that cryptic message from Nhan about Boreth. But in the immediate aftermath of Boreth, the Discovery crew evacuated to Enterprise and preparations for battle were rushed to completion. Both of which consumed Chris’ time and bandwidth. Was Nhan reacting to that?

If something was wrong, it felt very personal. And she fiercely guarded the man’s, and the Captain’s, secrets.

ooooo

Ash thought of himself as separate from the original Lieutenant Ash Tyler. The man captured during the Battle of the Binary Stars whose humanity was stollen and subsumed by Voq and then killed. That Ash Tyler felt like a folk tale about a distant ancestor.

They shared a past. They shared genetic code. They shared relatives. But diverged.

But then that was also true of Voq. Another folk tale who had passed into legend.

_And what does that make me? Who am I?_

He doesn’t know yet. May not for a long time. For now his quest – finding the girl in the picture and returning Leland’s book – provides his one touchstone.

Today the atmosphere on the ship is less edgy. Like everyone had exhaled. His guards are getting more lenient, starting to see him as a person rather than a threat, evidenced today by sharing breakfast rather than watching him eat. They’ve worked out a system of key phrases the translator can understand and sign language in order to communicate.

The mess hall is crowded with dozens of ongoing conversations and laughter. Which had been absent since defeating Control. Tyler, through a series of gestures and words asks why.

“The Captain declared this a free day – most of the crew is off-duty except for two-hour shifts manning critical stations,” one of his guards answered.

The other added, “Anyone who could hold a tricorder or operate a spanner spent the last 36 hours getting shields, weapons, and warp online. Not at full capacity, but enough to please the Captain for now. He then ordered everyone to rest. Rumor is a basketball tournament has been organized for later this afternoon. Any interest in watching? If our chief okays it? I thought you could use a diversion.”

Ash didn’t understand everything they said, but ‘crew off-duty’, ‘basketball’ and ‘watch’ got through. He nodded, touched by this gesture of inclusion.

ooooo

“Have you finished that translation I asked for yesterday?” Chris asked without a hello or any other preamble as he walked through the door.

Aalin looked up from the desk where she was working in their quarters. “I’m working as fast as I can, get off my … wait, are you asking as my Captain or in a more personal capacity?”

“As your Captain,” was the clipped and distracted reply as he read through the report on the PADD in his hand and sat on the sofa.

“Then get off my back _sir_.” It is a familiar joke between them. Which hit its target.

He stopped reading. “Take a break. Sit with me.”

When she joined him, he leaned in for a quick kiss and opened his arms, closing them around her after she laid her head on his chest and snaked an arm around his waist. He sat silently, pulling her closer until there was no space between them, resting his cheek on top of her head. She lost track of how long they simply sat, intertwined, grateful to be together.

_It’s like he’s creating a memory to savor at some future point in the future ... what an odd thought to pop into my head._

“I missed this, having you in my arms.” Chris said quietly, seriously.

“I missed being in your arms.”

A few minutes later Aalin said, “I’m worried about Phil, and I know you are too. I’ve got duty in Sickbay overnight. Take the night off. Spend some time with him, have a few drinks. Give him a chance to fill you in on the latest gossip. You’ll both be better for it.”

Chris smiled knowingly. _She’s tired or else her ploy would be less transparent._ “OK, if that makes you happy.”

“It does, thank you.”

“When we get home, while Enterprise is repaired, I want to go away, just the two of us. No family, no friends, no colleagues. No ship. No work. No interruptions. Only us.”

Aalin pushed herself up and put her arms around his neck. “Yes, please.”

He smiled, “It will be a new experience – privacy.”

“I could get use to that.”

He leaned his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry there hasn’t been an opportunity to talk more about Leland and his loss. I’ll find time, I promise. And I really do need that translation from Tyler’s time in Sickbay, today if you can manage it. Since the unscheduled communications drill pulled you away yesterday.”

“I’m almost finished.”

“Good. I need to get to the bridge, but let’s meet for dinner. When does your shift start?”

“10:00pm. Chris, why is this translation so important? It’s basically incoherent ramblings. He was gravely injured.”

“It feels … too coincidental. In the time we were on Discovery, Tyler never lapsed … Voq never surfaced. Why now? Is it truly due to the injury? He spent a lot of time with Leland and Section 31. With Control. It’s reasonable to assume Control had a backup plan, had hundreds of backup plans.”

_Chris believes we are being hunted._ Given that he wasn’t a paranoid type nor subject to hyperbole, the thought was chilling.

ooooo

“Thanks for coming early,” the nurse, a lieutenant commander, said as Aalin entered the staff office in Sickbay Three. Two other nurses are in the corner of the room talking quietly to one another. One with redden eyes sniffles now and then.

Medical suffered more losses than any other department during the recent battle. One Sickbay unit was destroyed, half of another exposed to the vacuum of space after the photon torpedo lodged in the hull exploded and one of their force fields buckled. The staff watched, horror stricken, as their patients and colleagues were lost to the darkness. With all the injuries, those who survived had had no time to stop and mourn.

Before Aalin could respond, one of the nurses in the corner said in a louder tone of voice. “It’s OK, you can tell her. She’ll keep the secret.” The nurse with red eyes, looking even more miserable, shook her head.

The commander leaned in and softly explained, “Lucy is from Discovery. This ward is her assignment today. There was an incident early and she’s concerned about the consequences. Would you take the rest of her shift? I know you are scheduled for the overnight shift, but Lucy needs a break and there isn’t anyone else.”

“Yes sir.” Aalin responded, which caught Lucy’s attention.

“I think in a casual setting she will feel calmer and I can find out her side of the story. She, well, she just lost her friends, and you know the rumors about how difficult Lorca was. She trusts Captain Pike, but that trust doesn’t extend to other senior officers. She’s afraid of Dr. Boyce and Number One. Assumes she will be blamed. If the tales are true about Lorca, I understand why she’s nervous …” he continued.

“Wait,” Lucy interrupted, “did you just say sir?”

Aalin turned to the young woman. “Yes.”

“But you’re … On Discovery with our _other_ Captain, his favorites could …”

With a kind smile Aalin responded, “I am a member of this crew acknowledging a request from a superior. Now, walk me through the patient roster and then go enjoy the rest of this free day. I hear a party has sprung up in the shuttle bay. Rumor is someone has the replicators from several of the shuttles running on contraband power cells. And the still is back in operation.” Few knew it was the Chief Engineer that rigged the replicators and the CMO who stocked the still with his legendary collection of spirits. 

“Uh, OK. Most are in their last day or so of observation before release,” Lucy started timidly and her confidence grew as she spoke, “I’ve prepared the evening meds. You need to keep an eye on Evans and Lesley, they are the two playing chess. Lesley had an allergic reaction to his pain meds; Evans has a bruised kidney. Then there is Commander Stevens …” Her voice cracked.

Aalin scanned the notes, “The pilot with the hip and knee injury?”

Lucy nodded, “I know he is my responsibility …”

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” the third nurse in the room, who was part of the Enterprise crew, exclaimed. “The pric …” The lieutenant commander glared, and she amended, “ _excuse me,_ the hot shot ace who came on board with the fighters Number One commandeered. Who, by the way, will find his ass kicked back to private if he pulls one of his stunts with Commander Una or the Captain. He ignored medical advice, refused to listen when she tried to keep him immobile, and then berated her. He’s a cocky, in all the worst connotations of the stereotype, SOB.”

“But I’m his nurse, I should have found a way to keep him well and safe. Instead his injuries are now worse.” Lucy added.

“Hmmm. I see. Anything else I should know?” Aalin asked. When there was no response she added “Go. And don’t worry, I know how to deal with pilots.”

Walking into the treatment area she said, “Good evening gentlemen, I’m your cruise director for the evening and overnight and I have good news. The replicators are fixed throughout Sickbay. No MREs tonight. Though I hope you like Italian because Chef tends to channel his grandmother when he’s stressed.” That drew an enthusiastic response.

She made a circuit around the room, stopping to talk with each patient.

“Commander Stevens I see you have had a bad day. How is the pain?” Aalin asked the last patient.

“Tolerable.” Was the condescending answer.

“That’s a positive sign. You’re scheduled for another session with the bone knitter later. Until then you need to stay in bed and keep your leg motionless.”

“I’ll decide what I can and can’t do. And I outrank you so stop with the presumptuous orders. Besides, I hear you are an interpreter not a doctor or nurse.” The pilot said in a snide tone. “Though you are cute … for your age.”

“True. I’m only a temp.” Aalin answered vaguely and serenely. “I’ll get the meds and then take your dinner orders.”

“I heard a medic on the ship once promised to break an officer’s other leg when he refused stay in bed.” Evans told the group after she left.

“That’s just an urban legend," another responded.

“She also threatened to stun me.” The Captain added as he entered the ward and leaned casually against the doorframe.

Returning from the supply room Aalin remarked, “And my aim has improved since then.”

One of the patients whispered to Stephens, “Still think you can intimidate her with your rank, ace?”

Aalin smiled at Commander Stevens. “I have good news. Your recovery will now be overseen personally by Dr. Boyce,” the Enterprise crew members snickered, “and Lieutenant Hansen,” the Discovery crew members groaned, “so you won’t be troubled with any more setbacks.”

The Captain’s communicator chirped, and he stepped into the office to take the call. They waited silently, tension seeping back. There were 1001 benign reasons for a call to the Captain, but none felt likely in this moment. The alert klaxon began blaring.

Returning he said quietly “Anyone able to battle stations.” There was no need to add – this is not a drill.


End file.
